Something Old, Something New
by e1evenc1ara
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring Clara and the Twelfth Doctor.
1. Something Old, Something New

**Prompt**: some fluffy/sad admitting of feeling from eleven before he regenerates

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><p>She couldn't feel the cold snow on her knees as she knelt on the ground or hear the soldiers shouting in the distance as they put out the last of the fires and looked for survivors. All she could feel was the weight of his upper body as she cradled his head in her lap, his breathing erratic and his eyes unfocused on a spot somewhere over their heads - the Christmas lights, maybe. Not too far off, Clara could swear she heard the TARDIS releasing a mournful sound; of course, she knew what was happening.<p>

"Don't cry, Clara. Please."

Clara's lip trembled and she slammed her eyes shut. The Doctor released a heavy breath and shifted his head in her lap, and Clara snapped her eyes open in alarm, sighing with relief when she found him watching her. She had feared that breath had been his last.

"I should have been there," she said shakily, sniffing back tears. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"You couldn't have stopped it," he assured her, closing his eyes. "It would have killed you ."

Clara cradled his face in her hands. "I know you -" She stopped and pressed her lips into a firm light to hold back a sob. "I know you're going to be alright. I know that. You'll just change and keep on going like you've always done. But I'm… I'm going to miss this face."

Her hand stroked his cheek and the Doctor managed to smile.

"And here I thought you'd be glad to be rid of this chin," he joked.

Clara laughed through her tears and found herself stroking his chin fondly. "Shut up; I love this chin."

He touched her hand and closed his eyes again. Clara bent forward and cradled his head against her chest, tears dripping from her eyes as she took shaky breaths to calm herself. The Doctor laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a weak squeeze.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was happening too soon, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye, although part of her argued that she never would have been.

"Clara… Get me back to the TARDIS."

The Doctor tried to sit up and gasped with pain before falling back against her lap.

"Please," he begged, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

She nodded quickly and helped him up, trying hard not to let the groans and gasps of pain affect her as much as they did. The Doctor leaned heavily on her as they walked towards the TARDIS, which was parked just around the corner. The Doctor sucked in a pained breath with every step and fell about ten feet short of the TARDIS doors.

Clara gasped with alarm. "Doctor!"

"I can't do this here," he said tearfully. "I can't die here."

A powerful emotion gripped her chest and Clara's vision blurred with tears that spilled down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand and then struggled to compose herself.

He was dying. This wasn't a time for her to breakdown and make this about her pain.

"My Doctor," she said with a fond smile, her lips trembling as she stroked his hair. "I'm here. I'm here."

He lifted his hand to her face and pressed his thumb against her trembling lips, which stilled under his touch.

"I'm glad you are. My Clara… My impossible girl…"

She laughed wetly. Over time, the term had come to mean something less mysterious and more irksome to the Doctor. And yet he spoke the words with such fondness, almost as he were uttering three completely different words.

Clara leaned forward, and the Doctor kept his eyes locked with hers. She didn't know what she was doing, she dare not even think of it, but as she drew slowly closer, the Doctor slid his hand to the back of her head and pulled her into a soft kiss.

She didn't know if her heart had stopped or was beating so fast that the beats were indivisible. His fingertips pressed softly against her scalp and Clara's lips shook against his. They pulled apart and neither knew what to say. All she could do was stare at his lips and know that she would never see them again. Not in this life.

"Clara… Get back…"

"Doctor?"

She knew what was happening, but her eyes still went wide when she saw the golden light seeping out of his pores.

"Get back!" he cried desperately, and Clara scrambled backwards in the snow, stopping only when she felt a pile of rubble at her back.

Invigorated by the energy coursing through him, the Doctor stood and stared at his hands. Clara felt paralysed as she watched the gold light glow even brighter, and before it completely obscured his features, she saw him flash her a grin and wink.

And then he died.

The light was so bright that she had to turn away and shut her eyes. A surge of energy blew like a snowstorm around them, and then suddenly everything was dark and still, and she heard him panting heavily in the cold.

"Blimey," said the Doctor with his new voice.

Clara opened her eyes and looked up at him through the strands of hair that had blown across her face. A tall, wiry man with dark grey hair and creases around his eyes and mouth was staring at his hands and muttering incoherently. She stood slowly and watched him, unsure of what to make of what she was seeing. Clara knew that he was the Doctor, but she had never seen this man before. She'd seen all the others.

"… The nose… blimey. _Wait a minute_," he said gravely, his eyes meeting hers. "No. Oh my god, no."

With the eyes of a wild man, the Doctor stumbled forward and grabbed Clara's upper arms tightly. She gasped in surprise.

"Do I sound," he began, drawing in a shaky breath. "_Scottish?"_

Clara couldn't help but look at his eyes; they were still a familiar shade of green. "Um… a bit."

He lowered his gaze and snarled before releasing his grip on her and then pacing back and forth in the snow.

"Amelia Pond! This is down to her, I know it. She was with me too long; she was bound to rub off on me somehow. God, that's strong," he said, waving his hand in front of his face as if he could waft the Scottish accent away.

The Doctor returned his attention to Clara when he noticed her wiping her face.

"Clara, are you alright?" he asked with concern, closing the space between them. "You've been crying."

He acted as if he didn't know why; maybe he didn't. Maybe he'd forgotten everything that had just happened. Maybe more of him had died than she knew.

The Doctor's eyes searched hers and Clara wanted to look away, but then his gaze softened in understanding and his features grew grim.

"Oh, _Clara_. I'm _so_ sorry."

He hugged her tightly to him, but Clara could only stand there with her arms dangling limply at his sides. She felt like she was being hugged by some random stranger on the street.

But then she felt it, that familiar _thump thump thump thump_ of his hearts. Clara closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, releasing a slow breath as she came to terms with the fact that this strange man with the funny eyebrows and Scottish accent was _her_ Doctor.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he pulled away, his hand smoothing back her hair from her face as he examined her features. "You didn't get hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," she assured him.

The Doctor nodded rapidly and then pressed a wet kiss to her forehead. "Good. Good. So… I guess we'd better get going, then."

"Going where?" she asked, grabbing his hand as he made his way towards the TARDIS.

He raised a bushy eyebrow and shot her a look. "What'd you wanna stick around here for?"

Clara laughed. And laughed. She felt like she might go insane. It shouldn't be funny, in fact it wasn't funny, but then again it really, really was. The Doctor squeezed her hand and Clara wiped tears of laughter from her eyes before squeezing his hand back. Their eyes met and Clara smiled.

"Hello."

The Doctor flashed her a brilliant grin. "Hello." He frowned. "Blimey, that's going to take some getting used to. Alright, then! Back to the TARDIS."

He opened the door and dashed inside. Clara followed shortly after him, closed the door behind her, and watched as this new Doctor whirled around the console.

"Dammit," he muttered as he stopped and stared at the controls. "A lot of this was muscle memory, you know."

"Is that gone?"

The Doctor raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at her. "New muscles."

"Oh. Right."

Clara approached the console and dragged her fingers along the edge as she slowly moved around it. She felt numb, like she wasn't fully processing everything that was happening. It was all just so sudden. The Doctor had gone from weak and dying to jumping about like a mad rabbit. She could still feel his lips against hers, and without knowing it she brought her fingers to her lips. Her other hand was still dragging along the edge of the console as she walked until she felt another hand drape across the back of hers, stilling her movements.

She looked up to find the Doctor watching her almost nervously.

"I uh," he began, lowering his eyes and clearing his throat. "I was… dying. And… you know, you were… and I…" He cleared his throat again. "I hope I didn't upset you."

"Of course you upset me," she said softly. "You were dying."

"Right, right. I remember." He released a nervous laugh. "What I mean is, I hope you weren't… you know… That everything was okay… with the…" He raised his other hand and gestured loosely to his lips with his fingers. "The kissing thing."

Clara grinned. The way he looked at her now, fidgeting on his feet and blushing two shades pinker than she remembered him being, reminded her once again that her Doctor was still here. She stepped up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss against his lips, surprising him and her at the same time.

"Yeah. I think it's okay."


	2. The Song Remains the Same

**tumblr prompt**: They get off to a rocky start, but Clara starts to fall for him but he's reluctant because he looks a bit older, so she has to seduce him over time...

**A/N**: _Something Old, Something New_ is the title of the first fic in this collection, a title I will now use for all of my 12/Clara ficlets that are written in response to prompts from tumblr. I like having my 11/Clara and 12/Clara fic collections separate, since they sort of exist in different storyworlds (although sneaky 10's wriggled his way into the 11/Clara collection... wiley bastard), and that is why what was once a one-shot fic on my account will now be a series of fics. I suppose I should change the cover!

Also I don't know why I ask for prompts when I take them and do something completely different! It's something along the lines of what was asked for, but I tend to wander…

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><p>He would catch her staring sometimes and, whenever he was in the right mood, the Doctor would pretend not to notice. But every now and then that prickly feeling he got on the back of his neck when he knew she was staring would unsettle his nerves. He would meet her eyes with a steady gaze and Clara would glance away, sometimes quickly as if he had just caught her looking about the room, but sometimes sheepishly because she knew she'd been caught.<p>

He knew it wasn't easy for her, looking at a new man and hearing a different voice, yet reconciling with the fact that he was still the same person he'd always been. The thing was, it was an even harder adjustment for him.

As usual, nothing tasted right. His new depth perception was probably the hardest thing to adjust to. He was constantly reaching for levers on the TARDIS console and grasping nothing but air since his hand had reached two inches to the left, and his joints - they weren't really stiff, but they weren't…

Well, they weren't _his. _But they were now.

He had gotten used to seeing the same face in the mirror for centuries. Almost half of his entire life had featured bow ties, a big chin, and floppy hair, but now he was all eyebrows and nose, and he was right back to that properly skinny build that was - granted - remarkably lightweight and easy to run with.

But whenever he looked at Clara, the Doctor was reminded of one thing that hadn't changed. She still made him smile. Even whenever he was in a sour mood, she would meet his eyes and smile lightly and he'd feel his traitorous lips stretch across his teeth. He would then scowl at himself and Clara would laugh. He would laugh. She made him happy.

Sometimes when he caught her eyes, he saw something he hadn't expected to see there again - that appreciative, lingering look that betrayed her physical response to him. At first she had been withdrawn and shied away from him whenever he got too close, his body and face both strange and foreign to her. But now…

Now she laughed and leaned into him whenever they stood next to each other, her eyes boring into his for several seconds until the Doctor forgot where he was and what they were doing. She would sidle up next to him at the console and lean into his space as he readied the TARDIS for flight, which was often rather distracting and probably accounted for half of those moments where he'd reach for a lever and miss. She would cling to him tightly whenever he narrowly escaped some form of danger and wouldn't let go right away, not even after the rush of relief had dissipated. Instead she would relax against him and lay her cheek against his chest with a sigh that made his hearts thrum rapidly.

He honestly didn't know why she was acting so strangely, so the Doctor usually he changed the subject, made a joke, or patted her on the head before moving onto the next matter of business, hoping whatever was going on with her wasn't serious.

But one evening, Clara gave the Doctor a _very_ clear idea of what motivated this bizarre attachment. They were staying at an inn in Colonial America, becoming the "Dr and Mrs Smith" once again since the puritanical sensibilities of the time frowned upon an unmarried couple sharing a room. It was the middle of January and howling winds beat at the shutters. The only thing louder than the sound of them rattling against the window was the rattling of Clara's teeth as she shivered violently next to the fire.

He would always remember how small she looked, curled up on the rug next to the hearth with the quilt from the bed wrapped around her shoulders as she stared distantly into the flames. He had offered her the armchair he was sitting in, but Clara had declined in favor of being closer to the fire.

"Aren't y-you c-cold?" she asked after the wind whistled spectacularly loudly, drawing their attention to the window.

He looked down at her and shrugged. "Not terribly."

Her eyes lowered to his knees, or at least that's what it looked like, and the Doctor could almost see the wheels turning in her head. When she met his gaze again, she surprised him by asking a question he'd never expected from her

"Would you… Would you h-hold me?"

Her wide eyes and plaintive tone almost reminded him of a child, but there was something scared there, too - as if she feared him saying no. The seconds ticked by and he merely stared at her before coming to his senses and nodding in reply. He watched, hearts thudding wildly for some reason, as she stood and crossed the two feet between her and his chair. She stood at his knees for a long time as she considered the situation and then slowly lowered herself into his lap, her legs draped over one arm of the chair and her head sinking against his shoulder.

She released a sigh and continued to shiver, which reminded the Doctor why she had asked him to hold her. He wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands up and down her quilt-covered arm, hoping that he was doing his part to warm her up. He stared at the clock on the mantlepiece as he tried to ignore the feeling of her warm breath on his neck or the softness of her backside pressing into his thighs, both of which were doing a fair job of raising his own body temperature.

"I'm sorry we're stuck here," he said in a low tone, his voice much softer than he'd intended. Her hair brushed against his neck as she nodded in understanding. His fingers were now trailing circles on her back. "It shouldn't take us long to get to Richmond."

Clara nodded again. Her body then grew still against his and her heart rate increased. When she leaned back to look up at him, his brow was furrowed with worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Doctor…" She spoke hesitantly, but with a clear purpose. Her eyes fell to his lips.

He swallowed roughly. "Yes?"

Slowly, she leaned forward. The Doctor's eyes widened and he remained completely still, hands motionless at her arms as her lips pressed against his in a soft, firm kiss that felt like it lasted several minutes, but was in reality a brief contact of mere seconds. She breathed against his mouth and then glanced up at him questioningly, waiting for some kind of response.

He licked his lips and swallowed again. "Did you, um… have something to ask?"

She released a tiny laugh, her breath hitting his face as she leaned further back to look at him rather sadly. "Do you not fancy me anymore?"

"Fancy you?" he replied curiously, as if this was the first time he'd ever considered such a thing.

Her shoulders slumped and she smiled faintly, her eyes once again lowering to his lips… or perhaps his chin. "It used to be so obvious. I used to be able to read it all over your face." Meeting his gaze again, Clara sighed. "Now I'm not so sure. Everything's changed…_You've_ changed… And I just…" She pressed her lips together. "I thought some things would stay the same."

She averted her gaze and continued to smile sadly, an expression he had since learned served as a mask for her more sensitive emotions. Lifting his hand, he pushed her hair away from her face and she looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Not everything's changed," he assured her.

She released a shaky breath and smiled, causing the Doctor's hearts to thrum in his chest at the sight of her curved lips and white teeth. She raised her fingers to the wrist of the hand that cradled her face and stared into his eyes, and he thought, _I should just do it. I should just kiss her._ It wouldn't bring about the end of the world, and he knew she would kiss him back. He needn't be embarrassed, but then what would they do afterwards?

His traitorous mind thought of a few good things they could do afterwards, which made his cheeks grow warm, but he was originally thinking more along the lines of coping with this new, added level of intimacy. He didn't just go around kissing the people he travelled with; he actively avoided it as a general rule, although he'd never had to actively avoid it so much with anyone more than with Clara. If he kissed her, he knew he'd regret it…. Or would he regret it more if he didn't?

The Doctor was still pondering all of the possibilities when Clara leaned forward and captured his lips with hers again, putting a sudden end to his silent debate in the most welcome way. His sharp inhalation of surprise was followed by a hum of contentment that vibrated against her lips, and she leaned further into him. He definitely felt passion for her, but this kiss communicated something more than just physical attraction. It was the fulfillment of a longing he had believed himself to be suffering alone, a longing for companionship and intimacy with a woman who'd somehow wrapped herself so tightly around his hearts, he wondered if they even belonged to him anymore.

She pressed his hand firmly against the side of her face as their heads shifted and the kiss deepened. Clara's fingers then curled around the back of his neck and snaked through his hair, pulling him impossibly close as she shivered in his arms.

The Doctor couldn't tell if it was from the cold anymore, but he held her tightly just the same.

"Clara." He spoke her name in a heavy breath, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe normally.

"Yes?" Her lips were pink and swollen. The Doctor swallowed hard as another traitorous thought filled his head at the sight of her.

"You should… You should probably get some sleep." He licked his lips absentmindedly. "Long day tomorrow."

She smiled incredulously. "Sending me to bed, are you?"

"Yes. _I-I mean_, not like that…" He coughed lightly. "You should sleep."

"I don't think I'll be able to now," she said with a grin that shifted to something saucier, almost wicked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"No?" He fought to keep his gaze from her lips but failed. She lifted his hand and laced their fingers together, palm to palm. "I could…" He swallowed again. _Stop that._ "Tuck you in."

Her resulting grin made him dizzy. "Yeah," she said softly, eyes lowering to his lips again. "I think I'd like that."


	3. Undertones

**A/N:** This little ficlet is spoiler-free! Enjoy :)

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><p><strong>Undertones<strong>

"I don't know why you pretend you're not in love with him."

Clara was used to Vastra saying things like this. Despite painting a picture of reserved Victorian gentility, the Silurian had a knack for butting into her personal life.

"Who's pretending?" she replied simply.

Vastra stared at the back of her head as Clara grinned and turned her back to the bridge where they had been standing. The Thames rolled in waves after two boats passed each other, and upon the one heading towards Greenwich waved the Doctor, signaling to them all that he was alright.

True to her nature, Vastra normally didn't pry into personal matters unless she held some concern for the well-being of those in question, and Clara had given her plenty of reasons to worry the night before. She and the Doctor were paying a visit to Paternoster Row after Vastra contacted him requesting aid in a case that involved extraterrestrial technology. They had received her call while preparing for a nice holiday at the beach and Clara had pouted visibly, only to perk up when the Doctor suggested going without her. As much as she preferred bikinis and mai tais to bustles and afternoon tea, she did enjoy spending time with Jenny and Vastra and, yes, even Strax.

She and the Doctor had a bit of a row in her bedroom the night before the incident on the Thames. Jenny had listened with her ear at the door while they shouted at each other, neither willing to admit that they were worried for the other's safety. He kept insisting that she stay behind, and she kept reminding him that he needed her to look after him.

"I'm not a child, Clara! I don't need a nanny!" he'd spat before storming towards the door. Jenny had jumped back just in time for him to fling it open and step out into the hallway, oblivious to everything but his own ire. Clara had raced to the door after him and slammed it with a loud growl of frustration, Jenny nearly jumping out of her skin at the sudden noise.

When she told Vastra about it later that night, she'd laughed it off. "I'd imagine they're normally like that. Lovers spats, you know."

Jenny had frowned. "But the Doctor and Clara, they're not… _you_ know… are they?"

She'd stared at Vastra's smile in the mirror while the pulled the pins out of Jenny's hair with practiced care. "Not in the same sense that we are, I'd imagine."

Jenny's smile crinkled her eyes. "I don't think could be the same as us, dear."

"No," Vastra had replied warmly. "But love is universal, my dear. The Doctor surely knows that."

"Does Clara?"

Vastra had sighed, as if this was something she devoted a good deal of thought to. They were a bit nosy, to be honest. "I suppose only time will tell."

Clara waited for the ship to dock the next evening with a sigh of impatience that fogged the air in front of her face. She adjusted her grip inside the furry muffler Jenny had lent her and then smiled tightly when she saw the Doctor disembark with the other passengers on the long ramp.

She should be furious with him, of course. He'd jumped off that bridge with a known serial killer in his arms, and even though a boat had been underneath to catch his fall, he had still put himself in unnecessary danger. But he was grinning when he saw her—that self-satisfied, congratulatory grin that covered his relief at seeing he'd succeeded in keeping her out of harm's way again, even at the cost of dislocating his shoulder.

"Did you break anything?" she half-teased when he came to stand in front of her.

He grimaced and bobbed his head in a non-committal fashion. "Everything's more or less in its place. You're alright?"

His tone was even, but his eyes were worried. Clara blinked rapidly and smiled.

"Yes."

A rush of feelings coursed through his veins in that moment—a wash of relief, a flood of energy after his adrenaline-fuelled battle with the serial killer that had, regrettably, ended rather brutally when the constable onboard had shot the man in the head. There were flecks of blood decorating the Doctor's collar that Clara noticed with a frown.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that," she said with downcast eyes.

"Clara…"

"You're not the only one who worries, you know."

She met his eyes when he placed his hand on her shoulder. "I know."

A tentative smile blossomed on her lips. Clara removed her right hand from her muffler and brought it up to caress his cheek, her touch a whisper against his skin. "I've gotten used to my new Doctor. I'm not ready to trade him in yet."

His responding smile was involuntary and boyishly bashful. Clara stepped on her tiptoes and dared to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, her heart racing as she fell back on her heels.

He wasn't as touchy-feely as he was before, so what happened next was especially noteworthy. Clara gasped quietly when he pulled her to his chest, his arms wrapping firmly about her shoulders as he pressed his chin on top of her hat. "The hat makes you look taller," he said. "You should wear more hats."

"Shut up, Doctor—you're ruining the moment."


End file.
